Julia Winston Whore ❤️

About New York City

Picture this—quiet village vibes, like in *Moolaadé*, but swap the huts for neon-lit streets. Whore’s out there, struttin’, bold as a lioness, yet trapped like prey. Consumption’s the game—people buyin’ her, usin’ her, tossin’ her aside. Psychology says we crave control, right? Whore’s the product, the forbidden fruit, and blokes gobble it up—disgustin’, thrilling, same time. Me, I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ tea, thinkin’—bloody hell, humans are weird. Ever hear ‘bout Messalina? Roman empress, third wife of Claudius—rumor says she moonlighted as a whore for kicks. History’s wild, innit?

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"dal you're an ass. ha! dal. ass. dallas. dallASS." "are you proud of yourself?" "just a lil bit.".

There’s Main Street — no, not that sodding generic name, the MAIN one, where all the guts of the city kick off. The locals strut there, chattin’ and laughin’ like mad. And then there's Riverside Park by the winding Spur River. The river cuts through town like… I dunno, like the blood in your veins! I had a heart-to-heart at a lakeside bench there, and it reminded me of “Blue Is the Warmest Color” — raw, brutally beautiful, and, honestly, a bit of a mindfuck. “-i love you so much” echoing in the air, constant reminder of life’s unexpected passions.

1 shot in Winston-Salem State University study room; suspect at large